Give or take a few
by Hardly Here
Summary: Shannon's a tattoo artist, Mark fixes motorbikes. What's not to like? For takers-dark-lover.
1. Chapter 1

**So this one's for Takers Dark Lover. It's more of a ghostwriting mission, really; I'm writing from her initial ideas. She's been so awesome and reviews everything, she deserves a nice ficcy ^_^**

Shannon loved his shop. He loved the old radio which was stuck permanently on some old rock station. He loved the way the dim fluorescent lights made everything seem old and washed out, like something out of an old movie. He loved how every bit of chipped paint, ever crack in the old front window, every ink stain on the furniture told a story.

He was an artist. Well, at least that was the way he liked to see himself. Other words, thrown about by his asshole boyfriend included bitch, slut, whore and piece of shit. Lovely.

Luckily Jeff was out this weekend, on a business trip. Shannon didn't give a shit, he just wanted to work, to ink some lovely designs into peoples' skin, to create. His business had been dwindling as of late, though. Jeff and his brother had taken to bursting into the joint for a quick fuck whenever they felt like it, messing with the smaller man's work and nearly ruining him.

Tattoos are permanent, and so are the fuck ups. And people don't take kindly to fuck ups being imprinted onto their flesh for all eternity. So Shannon whiled away his time drawing out designs on bits of paper and trying to avoid being beaten up by the Hardys. He tried to enjoy the little things in his life.

The door opened with a clatter, and two humungous males burst in to his shop quite obviously under the influence of... something. They walked with big, deliberate strides and swayed about almost comically.

They both wore matching black wife beaters, although the taller one wore a flannel shirt over that, with the sleeves rolled up. Bother were grinning and stained with grease and dust.

"Hey," said the first man. He was slightly shorter, although in the general scale of things he was still massive. He was bald, and one of his eyes seemed milky blue with some kind of disease. In his hand he loosely held a large spanner. Shannon flinched.'

"H-hey?"

"My brother here wants his boyfriends face tattoed onto his own face, so that when they make out it will be like his boyfriend is kissing himself." The second man spoke. He had long, raven curls which hung loosely over his shoulders, and a very, _very_ intense gaze. The first man howled with laughter.

"A-are you sure you want-"

"Don't ask we what I want, I just _told_ you!" snarled the bald man, storming over to the bench where Shannon had been sketching.

"So are you gonna do the fuckin' job?" he growled. He grabbed Shannon by the collar and lifted him clean off the floor.

"I... uh... well... Tattoos are kind of permanent."

"I know that, you _dumb fuck_!"

"Well... why don't you think it over..."

Shannon saw stars as a meaty fist connected with his temple.

"Shit Glenn, he was just talkin'!" said a gruff voice.

"Ah crap. We better split."

The man called Glenn let him go, and Shannon slid weakly to the floor while they ran out of his shop. One of them called a sheepish 'sorry!' over his shoulder, but Shannon didn't really register it. He just lay there on the faded linoleum trembling madly, wondering what the hell had just happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! I'm so glad you're enjoying and appreciatin' – Shan/Mark does need more love ^_^**

**OMG COOKIES AND MOUTAIN DEW *grabs them all***

**OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM, thank you kindly !**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAKERS-DARK-LOVER, this is for you :)**

**X**

"Shan, did you get raped or something? Get up!" Jeff nudged a toe at his boyfriend's shoulder.

"Jeff?" Shannon's voice was hoarse, but he managed to haul himself groggily.

"When... when'd you get here?"

"Oh, about an hour ago."

_An hour?_

"Why didn't you wake me?"

Jeff shrugged, making his way over to their small flat behind the shop.

"You always whine about us making too much noise when we're fucking in my room. So we figured we'd get it over with before you woke up."

"I was _unconscious_ on the _floor_!"

"Yeah that's right, you were. Dumb bitch." Jeff slammed the door shut behind him with a smirk, leaving Shannon to collapse weakly onto the chair behind the counter and continue his futile wait for customers who would probably never come. Night fell, and Jeff didn't come outside to get him... and he sure as hell wasn't going to go back into his room to find out what he and his brother were doing. Eventually, his head dropped onto his folded arms and he fell asleep at the counter.

X

The tinkle of the little bell that was attached to the door jerked Shannon suddenly from his slumber.

"Hey," growled a gruff voice. Shannon shrank back immediately – it was the bigger man from yesterday. He was, if possible, even more grease-stained and dishevelled than he remembered, and there was a new graze across his cheek, which was bleeding.

Shannon tried for a timid 'hello,' but all that came out was a terrified squeak, which made the big man chuckle.

"Don't worry, I'm clean today. And sober. Just came 'round to apologize for yesterday." The man came closer and grabbed Shannon's chin. His touch wasn't entirely ungentle, and he brushed the loose blonde strands away from Shannon's face to expose the ugly bruise the other man had given him.

"Damn, Glenn's got a good right hand on him."

Shannon just whimpered, terrified at what the big man was about to do. Whenever Jeff grabbed him by the head, there was only ever one thing he wanted...

Now he was tracing the bruise, and his finger trailed down his cheek to the greenish spot just below his eye.

"He didn't do that, though."

Shannon's breath hitched; he felt like the air in the room was going to crush him.

"Name's Mark." Drawled the big man, releasing him and ruffling his hair slightly.

"Shan... non." Came the gasped reply.

"Damn kid, did we scare you that much?" Mark bent down so he could look at the little blonde properly. Indeed he was trembling in his seat, and his eyes flickered instinctively towards the floor. His breathing, too, had quickened; he looked like a little frightened puppy.

"...Damn." Mark shifted uncomfortably.

_Isn't the kid gonna say something?_ He thought

"Well... I, uh, better get going." He nodded briefly and began to make his way towards the door.

"I'm sorry though, about yesterday."

The bell tinkled as the door closed quietly, and once again Shannon was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is both for Sam and TakeraDarkLover. You're both awesome, awesome people ^_^**

**X**

A few hours later, the back door swung open and Jeff toppled out in his boxers and one of Shannon's singlets, his hair sweaty and plastered to his forehead. There were various stains spattered across his clothing; beer and dust and...

"Oh god Jeff, did you have to do that... all over my singlet?"

Jeff chuckled hoarsely and swaggered over to the counter where Shannon sat. The hungry gleam in his eyes said he hadn't gotten what he wanted yet, and it made Shannon shiver.

"Oh Shanny, I thought we were together? Anyway, I bought you this so I figured you wouldn't mind me borrowing it." He drew slowly closer to Shannon and cupped his chin roughly.

"Well..."

"You could always wash it tomorrow." Jeff's black lacquered fingers squeezed the soft flesh of Shannon's cheeks, making him whimper.

"I'm not your housewife!" said Shannon, his voice taking on a slightly hysterical edge.

Jeff released him, and he breathed a soft sigh of relief. Suddenly, his head snapped backwards as Jeff backhanded him across the face.

"You're whatever the hell I say you are," growled Jeff, grabbing Shannon by the hair and dragging him over the counter.

"And I say you're my bitch."

"Bit melodramatic there, baby bro," laughed Matt from the doorway.

Shannon just let himself get dragged limply to their room. He'd be their ragdoll for now, just let them take what they wanted from him. Try and get hurt the least amount possible, that's all he could hope for.

Matt pounced on him as soon as he came through the doorway, and Shannon pulled away out of surprise. It was a bad move, because he drove his own head straight into a chest of drawers. The last thing he heard was a "what the _fuck_?" from Jeff, before everything went black.

He came to a little while later, and found himself on the floor, half-smothered in filthy sheets. There was no sign of either Hardy, but there was a relentless pounding in his head, and when he got up, a stabbing sensation between his thighs telling him what had happened while he was out.

God, those two were disgusting.

A tinkle at the door alerted him to a customer, and he quickly fished about for some clean pants before rushing out to the shop. He skidded to a halt though, when he found that it was Mark who was wandering about, looking at the various designs tacked to the walls.

"Um... can I help you?" asked Shannon softly.

"Are these yours?" asked Mark, ignoring the greeting. He made a vague gesture indicating the drawings.

"Most of them are. I like to draw..."

Mark grunted and nodded, turning his back on Shannon to study them further. He seemed totally at ease with his surroundings, which Shannon envied. He was glued to the spot, shaking in his socks in his own shop. Mark seemed to sense his fear, because he turned around again.

"Look, I know I'm a big guy but I'm not really that creepy, am I?" he raised an eyebrow mockingly.

"Y-no. No, I'm just..." Shannon let the sentence trail off, and cast his eyes to the floor again. God, he was shit at making friends. No wonder no-one but Jeff wanted him.

"Are you alright?" Mark's voice was closer now, and Shannon looked up in alarm to find the big man a lot closer than he had previously imagined.

"Yes." He said sharply, "I'm fine."

_No. Fuck. Take me with you._

"Alright. Well, I'd like that one." He pointed towards a smallish design of a skulled pirate on a motorcycle. Shannon bit his lip and blushed shyly.

"That's my favourite one too."

He walked over to where the design hung to grab it off the wall, and Mark didn't miss the lingering tentativeness in his gait. It wasn't really his place to interfere though, and so he let it slide, for now. A deeper, primal part of him growled on the inside because he knew someone was hurting the little man, and by some ingrained instinct he wanted to protect him. Wanted to take him home and tell him that everything was alright...

"Do you, uh, want to do this now?"

"Can't see any reason why not," said Mark absently.

Shannon felt a little wriggle of delight build in his belly. He hadn't had a proper customer in ages. One that appreciated his work, anyway. He wished he could have explained to the man how much it meant to him.

Oh well.


	4. Chapter 4

Mark lay back in the chair with an easiness which said he'd done it all before. Rolling back his sleeves revealed that this assumption was true, since his arms were for the most part covered in various designs.

"These are nice," said Shannon. He mentally kicked himself instantly after. _Nice?_ The tattoos were _nice_? NICE? Shave have said badass, or something. He hadn't had a proper conversation with another human (the Hardys didn't count) for so long he'd almost forgotten how.

Mark graciously ignored it though, and pointed to a spot on his wrist, near the back of his hand.

"Originally wanted to get a watch done there, but that's too much of a pussy gimmick." He chuckled.

Shannon wanted to giggle in delights at having his design put in such a prominent place, but he restrained himself. He was having to exercise a lot of restraint around the larger man, since every fibre of his being wanted to crawl into his lap and beg to be taken home.

He cleaned the patch of skin he wanted, then stencilled the design on.

"How's that look?" he asked timidly

"Looks _nice_" smirked Mark, flicking Shannon's nose playfully.

Shannon blushed, then changed the needle, eager to get to work.

Drawing on paper was nothing compared to drawing on actual, living human skin. The bold, black line of ink which began down Mark's arm exhilarated him, and Shannon's nimble fingers made short work of the design. An hour later they were finished, and Shannon was the happiest he had been in a very long time. He wiped away the last of the excess ink and began to bandage the slightly raw skin. Mark's other hand caught him though, and lifted his chin to meet his gaze.

"I reckon a man who cares about what he does as well as you's worth admiring," he rumbled softly, "leave tha bandage off, I want to be able to see it."

"But it might-"

"Do you want to come see my work? I like to think of myself as a bit of an artist too."

Shannon's heart leapt at the thought, and he was about to gasp out a breathless '_yes!'_ when Jeff burst in.

"Some dirty motherfucker keyed my car!" he growled angrily. He then paused to take in the sight of Mark in the chair, gently cupping his boyfriend's chin.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?"

"J-jeffy, i have a customer!" squeaked Shannon

Jeff gave an angry shout, and sent most of Shannon's drawings crumpling to the floor with a sweep of his arm.

"I think you've done enough damage here, young man," said Mark ominously, getting out of his chair.

"No, don't!" gasped Shannon, running to Mark's side as he advanced on Jeff.

"Don't interfere, this punk obviously needs to be taught a lesson." Mark began to crack his knuckles.

"No, _you_ don't interfere!" Shannon was panicking now; Jeff was going to absolutely murder him if this went on any further. Mark whirled on him and scowled down at the little blonde.

"You want _me_ to leave instead of your punkass boyfriend?"

Shannon nodded mutely.

"Now at least I know why he calls you his bitch." He wrenched the door open and stormed through, ignoring Jeff's triumphant expression. Once he was gone, Jeff turned to Shannon.

"Good to know you got my back."

Relief.

"But tell me," he flicked the torn sketches idly at his boyfriend, "why did he look like he was asking you out? And why did you look like a lovesick sixteen year old?"

Fuck.


	5. Chapter 5

Mark lingered outside the shop, spying Jeff's bike outside. He hadn't even left it chained up. Huh.

He knelt by the far side of it, out of sight of the two people in the shop, and began to work.

X

Two hours later, Shannon lay staring up at the ceiling. He could feel himself beginning to slide off the bed, but he was really too sore to do anything about it. Too sore, and too tired. Jeff was one thorough bastard, that was for sure.

He wanted to run away, but he knew that Jeff would find him. He knew the streets better, knew more people. Had more friends. And there was nothing worse than his vengeful boyfriend.

He could off himself. Hell, he worked in a tattoo parlour, there were plenty of ways he could just die. For a brief moment he scolded himself – his cousin had committed suicide at an early age and it had brought no end of grief to his family, he wouldn't want to do that. And then it dawned on him. He couldn't think of a single person who would care if he died.

He finally overbalanced and plopped sadly onto the pile of unwashed clothing by the bed, and began to sob quietly. Outside he could hear Jeff yelling about his bike and he tensed slightly, knowing that he was probably going to come back and take his anger out on him. But no, there was the rattle of the car keys, the faint answering rumble of Matt's voice, the slam of the door.

Once again, he was alone.

X

"Did he squeal like a little bitch?" laughed Matt, as Jeff recounted the latest tale of abuse he had put Shannon through.

"Yep, like a well-trained little bitch." Nodded Jeff, turning into the shop.

"Who's a well-trained little bitch?" Glenn came out from behind a rather intimidating-looking bike, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Oh, just someone..."

"Okay, whatever, what have we got today?" he smirked.

"Damn thing won't start up," snarled Jeff, "I mean, I had a bit of a poke around but-"

Glenn snorted, "Ah shut up Hardy, you wouldn't know mechanics from your bothers tight behind."

Jeff's hands balled into fists, but he said nothing, just let the larger man inspect his bike.

"You in a good mood today, Hardy? Being as you haven't tried to punch my lights out yet."

"Excellent, actually. I just found out how much of a little bitch my boyfriend is."

Matt chuckled at this, and Glenn raised an eyebrow.

"I'm assuming that this 'boyfriend' you're talking about isn't your brother..."

"No, actually he's a tattoo artist-"

"That little _runt_ who runs the shop?"

"That's the one. We just had an interesting two hours. Didn't even scream."

"Not while _you_ were fucking him, anyway." Said Matt

"Now I _know_ you're lying. _Both_ of you?"

"We tag teamed." Said Jeff simply.

"You guys are fucked up." Sighed Glenn, straightening up.

"Eh, he's used to it. Not like he's going to get much better from anyone out there." Jeff made a vague gesture as to where 'out there' was.

"I mean, he's just such a little-"

Matt had no chance to finish this statement, as there was a dull thud and he slithered to the floor, unconscious.

"Mark, what the fuck?"

Glenn looked up to see his brother now advancing on Jeff, one of their massive spanners in his hand.

"You didn't tell me you had a brother, least of all that he was this mother-"

Jeff's howl was also cut off by the spanner colliding with his head.

"I only work Wednesdays and Fridays." Murmured Mark.

He began to drag the bodies towards the company van, glaring up at Glenn as if to dare him to say anything. His brother held up his palms in surrender.

"I'm guessing you have your reasons," he said darkly.

"You have no idea." Mark shoved Matt's arm in roughly and slammed the door.

X

At some point, Shannon had made it to the bathroom. He just sat there on the toilet seat, gazing into the bath. He had filled it with water, although now he wasn't sure what to do. He had always been terrified of drowning, and now what was he going to do?

The water looked so calm, too. Like a smooth sheet of glass, it only rippled faintly when Shannon moved. He decided that the bath wasn't an option anymore and sighed, wiping the tears from his face. He hadn't stopped crying since Jeff had left; a terrible sadness just seemed to well up from his heart and trickle down his cheeks. He felt so cold...

The door slammed open, snapping Shannon to attention. Now was his chance – he might not get another. He heard a soft thump outside, and then other, and knew he had to act before he heard those footsteps come up the stairs. The razor...

He lunged for the shiny metal and without a thought drew it across his wrist.

It was a good thing he hadn't thought about it beforehand, or else he might have considered the pain. The terrible feeling of his lifeblood slipping away and the knowledge that he could do nothing about it. God, it hurt more than he had realised. He watched fascinated and half-sickened as the blood spurted out from the gash he had made, and ran down his arm. He wanted to make it bigger, or do his other arm but shit, he was so scared.

Then the door slammed closed, and Shannon hurriedly drew another, more wobbly line across his right wrist. More blood, it was going everywhere. He let out a slightly hysterical giggle as it dripped onto the filthy tiles, amused by how bright it looked. Like the inks he loved so much, this was the only thing which coloured his life.

He caught his reflection in the mirror, and his hands began to shake with fear. He was so pale now... so pale and... and...Lightheaded. His wrists weren't hurting as much anymore. The throbbing was weaker, and he felt strangely calm. Empowered. He was finally in control of something. For a fleeting moment, everything made sense.

Then a voice called his name, but instead of Jeff's southern drawl, it was a deeper, huskier voice. One that sounded much fonder. It was calling his _name_, not some depraved insult.

It was calling his name, and Shannon suddenly realised that he had made a terrible mistake.


	6. Chapter 6

"He's not gonna wake up is he?" Asked Mark softly, regarding Shannon's pale form sprawled on the bed.

"I dunno, depends."

"On what?"

"How loud you are." Glenn chuckled dryly and left the two of them together. One he was sure they were alone, Mark reached out and touched the bandages on Shannon's wrists – the bleeding had long since abated but flecks of scarlet still stained the cream material.

It was now a week since he had found him sprawled on the bathroom floor, smeared and dripping in his own blood. It was then that he had cried for the first time in his adult life, poured his heart out for the small, battered man he had come so close to giving up on.

"I don't even know you that well," murmured Mark, running his thumb across Shannon's arm.

"So why do I even care?"

He sighed heavily and ground the heel of his palm into his eyes. He hadn't been stupid enough to stay with Shannon the whole time, but when he went to rest, sleep was never easy in coming.

They had moved Shannon to Mark's apartment as soon as he was stable enough to do so. He had lost a lot of blood, but they were more concerned about Shannon's other injuries, and his state of mind. He hadn't spoken to anyone since the incident, and jumped in fright at the slightest noise.

Sleep had eluded him too, and at the present he was under the influence of a mild sedative, just to help him relax. It seemed to be working, too – the little man was fast asleep with his arms flung loosely around his pillow, as if he were craving something to cuddle. His brow was drawn into a slight frown and every time he shifted in his sleep, he gave a slight whimper.

"Hey, those asshole aren't gonna _touch_ you anymore." Whispered Mark, though his gaze flickered constantly towards the door, wary that someone might come in and catch his rare moment of tenderness.

Another whimper, and Shannon began to stir despite the drugs in his system, curling around the pillow in his arms.

"Please don't hurt me," he whispered. The words were slurred, but discernible. His breath hitched as Mark brushed his fingers along his arm again, making the younger man shiver.

"Those asshole brothers are at the police station, and they're not going to come within a mile of you ever again," Grunted Mark, though he couldn't hide the pleasure which laced his voice. Shannon nodded, but then another, darker thought seemed to creep into his mind like it had so many times before.

"What do you keep thinking about?" Asked Mark.

Shannon shook his head and kept silent.

"You have nothing to be scared of, kid."

"I have everything to be scared of." Came the quiet reply.

"I mean, what's going to happen to me now? I have no-one... You should have just left me there."

A soft sob shook his small frame, and it hit Mark hard.

"How can you say that?" It hurt, it really did, to hear that Shannon didn't think anyone cared. If no-one cared, what was he doing in Mark's own bed while he slept on the couch?

"What about me?"

Shannon continued to sob into the pillow, and Mark decided that words weren't going to be enough. He peeled away the covers and clambered into the bed beside him, pulling Shannon close and allowing him to nestle into his chest. He fought for a while, but Mark just kept with the plan of holding him there, and eventually he let go of the pillow and slipped his arms around Mark. A few minutes later, he had drifted off to sleep again, and though his arms still clutched desperately at him, the cloud of hurt and confusion seemed to have lifted from his brow.

Mark just hoped that Glenn wouldn't walk in just yet.


End file.
